Crave
by nlizzette7
Summary: "My queen, I implore you to do with me what you will." At this, he lifted his shirt and tugged it off. / Mary and Sebastian, on their wedding night, AU. / Rated M for adult content.


**Crave**

_Give a little time to me, we'll burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek, to turn this around,_

_And all I want is the taste that your lips allow._

"Your Grace."

They sat cross-legged before each other, Mary's wedding gown spilling out over both their legs, the tiara of jewels now clinging lop-sided to her dark curls. The fire that roared beside them cast burning shadows of flames that danced across Bash's soft features, the ever-startling color of his eyes, the hair she'd brushed away from his forehead when she'd whispered her vows into his ear just hours before, so low that the king wouldn't be able to hear.

With Bash, everything was a secret of its own. Everything belonged to only them.

Bash smiled like he'd just won a prize, and Mary bit down on her own lip, couldn't help but warm at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over her knees through the thick fabric of her dress.

"That makes me think…" Mary trailed off, shook her head.

"Of?"

"Of the boy who followed me down the to fields and saved me from the woods when I first arrived," Mary whispered, rather wistfully. "The one who looked at me and perhaps saw a queen while others saw a only a pawn." Mary reached out and touched the curve of his neck, brushing her fingertips over the stubble there. "The boy from the stairway, with magic in his eyes."

"So, no regrets, then?" Bash caught her hand, brushed his thumb over her new ring. It was engraved with the Celtic trinity, so that it could remind her of home, remind her of him. So that the two could somehow be the same for Mary. "No regrets on marrying the bastard boy who follows you around much too often?" He grinned to himself. "Despite, of course, his irresistible charm."

"Your charm," Mary retorted. "If it does exist, I haven't seen it yet."

Bash cradled her cheek. "Mary, my darling, your jokes aren't nearly as funny as mine."

Though he was trying to coax a laugh, Mary suddenly sobered, eyes impossibly wide in the dark.

"Bash, I didn't regret you in the shadows," Mary claimed, as honestly as she could. Though Bash was always smiling, there was always a certain doubt in his eyes when it came to her intentions. "I won't regret you when you are my king." She brought his hand to her lips, spoke against his palm. "When _I _am your queen. Bash…no one _asked _me to fall in love with you."

They were both overwhelmed with emotion for a moment, and all that could be heard in their bed chambers were the cracks and snaps of flame against wood, Mary's shallow breaths, and Bash's uneven inhale. She tried to fight her nerves, but she knew they were still plain on her features. This would be the moment when they were supposed to…undress. When she'd first done this with Francis, he'd left her breathless, too quick and controlling with his hands. He'd been over her and in her so quickly that she'd barely been able to focus on the pleasure the act was supposed to bring.

Bash was looking at her now, trying to read her face. Was she supposed to _seduce_ him? Was there something that newlyweds did when they…

"So lost in your thoughts, my queen?" Bash ducked his head, pressed his lips to Mary's ear. "Come back to me." He tickled her side, nibbled above her collarbone. "Come back." Mary's airy laughter filled the room, but it was lower than usual, a sharp and hesitant breath before each sound. Bash thought for a moment, face hidden in her neck before he backed away on his knees.

And said, "I want you to stand up, Mary."

Mary narrowed her eyes, lips parted. "_Stand_? Bash, why would you…?"

"I'm trying to corrupt you," came Bash's devilish reply.

"_Sebastian de Poitiers_."

"I'm only half-kidding." Bash smiled, looked as humble as he always did, his white dress shirt spread at the collar to reveal the start of his chest. "Please, Mary. I beg you to stand."

Mary did as he said, spread her fingers out against his shoulder to keep her balanced. Bash held her calves, found her face behind the veil of her dark curls and grinned once more.

He whispered, "There you are. Mary, you're my wife now. No matter what crown France places on my head, we have sealed this fate first, indefinitely."

Mary's fingers pressed tighter against his shoulder. "Fate?"

Bash nodded. "Not of a king and his wife." He blinked, touched the ends of her hair. "But of what we've always been: a queen and her soldier. I am yours, Mary."

"Bash – "

"I give myself to you. Always."

There it was.

The boy who had wanted her when his title hadn't been an option.

The man on his knees, for her.

Bash had been right, Henry as well. He wasn't cut out to be king – he was a vigilante with a heart much too big for his chest. And here he was, handing even that over to Mary.

"Such unexpected valiance from a mischievous man as yourself," Mary tried to joke. But the words were lost, the emotion caught in her throat. She took a deep breath and reach for her tiara, whispering, "Do we…"

Bash stilled her hand. "No, leave it on. I do believe I'm at your service for the night, my queen." His thumb ran over her hipbone. "You called for me, didn't you?"

Mary frowned, smiled in disbelief. "_Called _for you? Bash, are you turning our consummation night into some sort of…_game_?"

Bash smiled. "You make it sound so dreadful, Mary. Is consummation the word you'd use to describe the ache in the pit of my stomach every time you so much as smile in my presence? Is that what you'd say when I brush the hair from your face and grow weak in the knees despite having had the blood of stronger men on my hands in years past?" He shook his head, reassured her with an easy grin "My _queen_, I implore you to do with me what you will."

At this, he lifted his shirt and tugged it off.

Mary swore that her skin darkened a shade of pink. She was glad for how dim the room was, though she regretted not being able to see the lines of his chest, the angles that jolted right above the waist of his pants. She supposed that this is how it was going to be, a life with Bash. One surprise after the next – all delicious in its improperness.

"Fine," Mary replied in a crisp tone, fighting the smile on her face. She edged her gown from one shoulder, pulled her fingers through his hair. At the contact, Bash closed his eyes and groaned low in his throat.

Mary sought her first chance.

"No, look at me."

Bash stared at her collar, clearly defiant.

"_Look_ at me."

Bash did as he was told, and Mary faltered. It was too much, to look into those bright eyes of his while trying to keep herself composed.

"Never mind," Mary amended. "Don't…don't look at me."

Bash chuckled, grinned down at the floor. "Alright."

Mary smiled. "Alright?"

"_Yes_, my queen."

"Good, now…" Mary swallowed. "Take off my…gown."

Bash reached up to trace the lace at her bodice, running the tips of his fingers down the lines of the pattern. His hands slid back, started at the criss-crossing silk bands at her lower back. And when he couldn't reach any higher, he looked up at her in question, awaited his next command.

Mary's voice only wavered a moment when she said, "You may stand."

Bash bowed her to him when he stood, looked her in the eye as he unraveled her dress. Mary shivered when his bare chest touched hers, understood the ache that Bash had told her about now. He cradled the back of her head once, ran his hands through the length of her hair, then undid the rest of her corset. He was so close to her that neither could see what Bash had just unraveled. He could only feel where the curve of her breasts brushed his chest.

Mary bit her lip. "Alright?"

Bash laughed, "Am I _alright_? I…" He trailed off, cupped her cheek when he realized how serious she was. Instead of saying anything more, he hooked his fingers into his waistband, pulled his trousers down as Mary stood petrified.

This was _silly_.

She was a woman, a future queen, and…she'd _done _this before. But, then again, she'd never seen all of Francis, she'd never been so bare beside such bright flames.

"I'm going to step away from you now, Mary."

Mary gathered herself at hearing her name, a wicked gleam in her eye. "_How _did you just address me?"

She placed her palm flat out on his chest, closed her eyes as she shoved him away. When she finally opened them again, he was back on his knees, grinning up at her. And, goodness, he could see _everything_ from that angle. And she could, well, she could see everything, too. Her eyes found how hard he was for her, how daunting the sight was, before her gaze shot back up.

"Mary?"

Her lip was bleeding.

"Mary…?"

Oh, she was biting it.

"Mary, is this – "

"Touch me," Mary gasped. "I'd like for you to touch me, Bash."

He smiled so widely that a dimple appeared on his left cheek. "_Yes_, Your Grace." His palms found the backs of her knees and nearly tipped her off balance. Mary let out a yelp, held onto his shoulders as she fell against him, flushed as she had to spread her thighs to fit around his.

"Kiss me."

He did.

Bash's lips were incredibly soft, and his tongue traced over her bottom lip as his hand hiked the back of her thigh closer. All through it, the tiara stayed stuck in the locks of her hair, twined against braids woven into her curls. His ran his hand down her spine, down her bottom, and around to her stomach – so slowly she wanted to cry.

"Bash," she whimpered, just as his thumb slid to the cleft of her legs, pressed against the nub between her thighs where she was aching the most. He made an insistent little circle over it again and again, kissed and bit from her earlobe to the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

"_Yes_."

She was dripping wet, embarrassingly so. He could feel it on his thigh, coating his fingers, and he gathered more of her hair in response, held her face right in front of his, so that she couldn't look away. And then she got this look on her face: the worried line between her brows, the bruised splotches by her pink lips.

"Make love – " Mary drew in a breath, dug her fingernails into his skin until he cried out too. In her deliria, she somehow found a hazy blue, and she reached down to touch him. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she ran her hand up and down his length, caught moisture at the tip and reveled in the way a broken noise surfaced from his throat, how he dug his face into her shoulder.

"Mary?"

Bash circled her clit once more, pressed against her lower back to grind her forward.

"Y-yes?"

Mary gripped him harder, unsure if that was right. He jerked his hips forward, whispered something incoherent against her cheek.

"Mary, you're going to kill me."

Bash wrapped his hand around Mary's, stilled both of their ministrations. He lifted her with one hand, held himself with the other. And against her lips, she swore he whispered the same words he had when their lives had been at stake once upon a time. When she'd been sure that she could survive a dive off a cliff just as long as she was holding his hand.

_"You can do this."_

No, that wasn't quite right.

"We can do this."

He slid into her, and her eyes rolled back.

"That's it," Bash groaned against her skin. Mary held her cheek against his, every pant washing over the side of his face. "You feel so good, my queen."

"Your wife," Mary corrected, lifting her hips only to sink down again, feeling incredibly full. At the altered titled, Bash groaned, cupped her breast in one hand, skimmed his thumb over her pebbled nipple. Overwhelmed, Mary kissed him that much harder, the impact sending Bash flat on his back.

_Do with me what you will._

Mary rolled her hips forward, then did it again. Bash watched her in wonderment as she discovered what the rhythm was doing to her body. One of her hands was firm on his chest, the other was on the floor beside his head. Bash tilted his head back, smiled with his eyes closed, held on as Mary bucked and gasped above him. Her thighs pressed tighter, and she fell until their chests were flat against each other's.

"I'm going to – "

"Yes," Bash whispered into her neck. "I'm there, Mary."

She gasped again.

"I'll always be here."

He exhaled, but the sound was shaky. He surged inside of her, gripped the back of her thigh with a rough hand and began to thrust up into her as she rolled forward. Her moans pitched sharper, matched only by the things he was whispering in her ear, all achingly sweet: how soft her skin felt, how amazing it was to be inside of her, how he'd wanted this from the moment she'd stepped off that carriage.

"Bash – "

"Because I love you, Mary. Irrevocably."

He held her as she broke, pressed his face into her hair and held her hips down against him as they panted and sighed together, thrust twice more until he was completely spent. She was still trembling against him when they finally stilled, her body still in shock from the chilled sweat on her skin and the slow burn of the fire.

"I trust," Bash whispered against her cheek, "that I've completed my duties to your satisfaction."

Mary curled into the crook of his arm, gave a content little sigh. "I can't believe any of this."

Bash skimmed her side. "That bad? Shall we alert the king?" He sat up, his dark hair standing at one side. Mary giggled into her palm. "Guards come quick. The future Queen of Scots would like to exchange her husband for – "

The sound was muffled by her hand on his lips. And they instantly broke out in laughter, chuckles that faded to kisses down her palm and wrist.

"Don't laugh," Mary scolded. "You're absolutely awful."

"And you…" Bash kissed the corner of her lips and smiled. "Are beautiful." He lifted her closer to his chest, pulled the tiara from her hair as he led her over to their bed. He laid Mary down, wrapped her in sheets before tucking himself in beside her.

"Bash?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

The way he said it made her smile, like a thousand commoners could greet her just that way and never compare to the way he'd battle whole kingdoms with a single sword to see her live.

"I understand the ache," Mary whispered. "I understand it now."

_fin._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Because my OTP probably won't get a wedding, and I am mentally preparing myself for that with this fanfiction.


End file.
